In These Brief Moments
by Little Miss Slytherclaw
Summary: A collection of drabbles. I'll warn for M, but mostly keep them T. All drabbles will be under 750 words! Enjoy! I have a lot of Wolfstar in here? It's all fun and games I guess. Just enjoy please
1. What We Wished Were True

**Another new collection. Look at that.**

 **This one is gonna be purely for drabbles? I used to be really good at drabbling, but then I turned not so good. Now I'm trying to get good again. We will see if it works.**

 **For the purpose of giving myself a good drop off point, I'm gonna say that everything here will be under 750 words.**

 **This MAY change, depending on context? We will see.**

 **This is written for the Hogwarts Prompt of the Day, which is: Stripper!AU**

 **The rest of my Hogwarts prompts (where I am a Slytherin) will be down after the fic!**

 **.**

 **Big Shout out to Arianna Waters for**

 **a) Being the best fake Fiance ever**

 **b) Beta'ing like... everything for me**

 **c) Dealing with my insanity**

 **d) ...the list really could go on through the alphabet and into the numbers, buuuttt... I'll stop here XP**

 **.**

 **Warnings: I... don't know if there are any? Slight like... angst? The whole thing is fairly elusive? As long as you don't mind the words "strip" and "pole dancing," then we are fine?**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 620**

* * *

 **What We Wished Weren't True**

"I let it slide when you installed the thing in our flat, but now you're bringing your students back here?" an exasperated Theo said as he looked a scantily-clad girl up and down. She gave him a confused look; he gave her a sneer in return.

Theo had just come home from a long day of Uni classes, wanting nothing more than to drink some tea and listen to music with his boyfriend, but no. He had to come home to find his boyfriend teaching some girl how to strip and pole dance simultaneously—she was currently sitting on their bed wearing nothing but a bra and spanks. The nerve!

"Hey, didn't we go to primary together?" the girl asked, hopping up off the bed and grinning at Theo. Something like disgust crossed his features. The girl took the hint.

"Thanks for the practice, Charlie," the girl said, turning to the man before quickly pulling on a loose dress and joggers. "I'll see you at Honeydukes tomorrow?"

Charlie nodded and showed her to the door, keeping his expression light until the door had been closed. When he turned to Theo, the younger boy had to step back in surprise. It wasn't often that Charlie was angry.

"Her name is Astoria Greengrass. She's been at the club for two months and is going through a shitty time," he said, his voice low. Theo was tempted to turn away and pretend to ignore him, but something kept him rooted in his place. "Even if that weren't the case and she had happened to be a student of mine, the least you could have done was be a decent human being and show a little respect and kindness."

Fury flitted across Theo's eyes for a brief moment before he settled back into his usual, collected self. "So she's another little lost animal for you to try and save?" he asked, letting his shoulder bag drop to the floor before rolling his eyes and turning his back, crossing their studio flat to get to the fridge. He had to doge the pole that Charlie had installed just two weeks prior; he hated that pole.

"So what if she is?" Charlie almost yelled, his eyes flashing, as Theo snagged a can of beer from inside the fridge. "And what is your bloody deal with us practicing here? You were away most of the time!"

"It doesn't matter if I'm here or not," he sneered, his entire demeanor cold. "It's the fact that this," he gestured to the pole, "and Astoria," he gestured to the door, "were here at all. It's degrading."

Even Theo recognized he had gone too far; he almost regretted the words as soon as they had spilled from his mouth.

"I see," Charlie said coolly. "You're ashamed. Ashamed of our home. Ashamed of me and my profession. You'd rather not sully your hands with any of it."

Charlie was right; Theo couldn't deny it. He was ashamed. He hated the fact that he couldn't be supportive of his boyfriend, but he was ashamed.

"I'm not looking for anyone's approval. I know who I am," Charlie said. He no longer sounded dangerous. He sounded resigned. This wasn't the first time the topic had come up. It was probably the last, though. "I thought you knew who I was too."

Theo, his eyes looking Charlie up and down, shook his head. "So did I," he said evenly, taking one last look around the flat before pushing the can of beer into Charlie's hand, grabbing his shoulder bag, and walking out of the door with the intent of never coming back—Charlie could do whatever the hell he wanted with his stuff. Theo no longer cared.

* * *

 **A/N 2.0**

 **Writing clubs:**

 **Character Appreciation #19: (setting) apartment**

 **Count Your Buttons Character #1: Astoria Greengrass**

 **Sophie's Shelf #71: Charlie/Theo**

 **Liza's Loves #5: (setting) Studio Flat**

 **Lo's Lowdown #17: (dialogue) "I'm not looking for anyone's approval. I know who I am."**

 **.**

 **This was also written for Hogwarts's Slash September? For Theo**


	2. Take Me Home

**I'm here with another drabble? (Someone stop me... I have actual homework to do!)**

 **This was written for Hogwarts's (where I'm a Slytherin) Prompt of the Day: James/Regulus pairing**

 **I also have a list of other prompts this satisfies at the end of the fic.**

 **.**

 **Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, and allusions to depression.**

 **Word Count (Excluding A/N): 595**

* * *

 **Take Me Home**

Regulus let out a slow breath, his eyes consistently shifting down to look at the watch on his wrist. It was nearly midnight now; Regulus had asked James Potter to meet him at eleven.

It had taken every ounce of courage in him to write that brief letter telling the older boy his feelings and fears, and to have them so blindly ignored…hurt. It hurt really bad. Regulus had even watched James open the unsigned letter, his warm eyes scanning the words before looking up with concern—Regulus had put everything, anonymous or not, about the abuse he suffered in the Black household, where he would be returning tomorrow; about him being forced into the Death Eater ideals; about the fear he felt every time he spoke in the Slytherin common room; about how much he hated what he was doing with his life. He really shouldn't have been surprised when James looked concerned; that's just the way the Gryffindor was built—empathetically.

He had really thought James would show.

"Out of everyone you could have sent your plea to, why me?" A voice cut through the chilly night air. Regulus spun around and came face to face with James Potter, startled by his sudden presence.

"Sirius," Regulus blurted out, his cheeks flushing blood red at how squeaky his voice sounded. He took a quick breath to calm himself, desperate to not seem like a blithering idiot. "I see the way you interact with him, and he trusts you."

James didn't reply; Regulus couldn't stand the silence.

"Sirius used to tell me that if you look for the light, you can often find it. But if you look for the dark, that is all you'll ever see," Regulus whispered. "You were his light. You took him away, and I wanna come too."

Regulus felt so consumed, so torn by his past, lost in the hurt he felt. He was desperate; he wanted safety.

He wanted James.

"Please, James," Regulus said, his voice barely audible above the blood pounding in his ears. "My faith in humanity has been broken, but you are good."

James was inching closer, but Regulus hardly noticed. He was too wrapped up in the words he had been dying to say for… years.

"Be my light. James, please. Let me see the good. I don't want to live in the dark—it's so cold and lonely. James, ple—"

Regulus's words were cut off when James's hands cupped his cheeks, pulling them close together. Then there were lips; it was a searing kiss. So desperate and passionate—it was fire. In that moment, all that existed was Regulus, James, and their kiss.

And then that moment was over.

Regulus was panting when James pulled away, resting their foreheads together. "No going back now," James gasped. "If you come with me, you come with me for good."

Regulus was shocked, his mind melting as he tried to form thoughts. "You… You will take me away?" he asked, breathless. He had always looked to James, sitting across the hall, for light, but never had he truly believed that he could be directly bathed in it.

"You are an innocent. I can't leave an innocent in the dark" James replied. Regulus vaguely noticed that James's thumb was stroking back and forth on his cheek. "Especially not you. I've wanted to take you away from it all for so long, Regulus."

Something snapped inside of Regulus, and he felt the tears he had been pushing down for so long well up behind his eyes. "James, please," he whispered. "Take me home."

* * *

 **A/N 2.0:**

 **Reg is my baby. I love him so much. I wanna write him constantly, so I finally let it happen XD**

 **.**

 **Prompts:**

 **Prompt of the Day: Regulus/James**

 **Slash September: James**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Count Your Buttons (song) #4: Take Me Home**

 **Disney Challenge (theme) #2: Courage - write about someone managing to be courageous despite their fear**

 **Showtime #11: (dialogue) "No going back now."**

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair #9: Blood Red**

 **Lo's Lowdown #16:(dialogue) "If you look for the light, you can often find it. But if you look for the dark, that is all you'll ever see."**

 **Ambers Attic #12: "Let's fall in love as if the world is on fire, and there is nothing left but ash and us."**


	3. Prodigy

**This was written for Hogwarts, where I am a Slytherin (hiss hiss): Assignment #3**

 **Women's History #7: Write about a female Quidditch player performing an amazing athletic feat.**

 **.**

 **This is also includes a bunch of Hogwarts' Writing Club Prompts. You can find those listed after the fic.**

 **.**

 **Also... second fic in less than 12 hours... I feel powerful...**

 **.**

 **Warnings: erm.. Quidditch injury (implied more than described), nerves/light anxiety, and some mildly coarse language... that should be everything. This is so fluffy compared to so much I've written lately.**

 **Rating: T**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 749**

* * *

 **Prodigy**

Five minutes into the game, and everything had already fallen to shit. Gwenog, as usual, was on the edge of her seat while she watched her team fly. As a reserve for the Hollyhead Harpies, she had never actually gotten to play an official match. When a bludger barrelled into Audra's chest, knocking the Beater off of her broom and throwing her like a cannonball to the earth below, Gwenog was too shocked to realize that this was her chance.

"She did that on purpose!" Gwenog shouted, her eyes flashing at the Falmouth Falcon's Beater. The girl who had knocked Audra off her broom was pumping her fist and grinning.

"Obviously," Gwenog's girlfriend, Tonks, replied. Her hair was the color of Gwenog's robes, and her eyes were gold. The Quidditch player would be lying if she said she didn't find her girlfriend sporting her team's colors to be horribly attractive.

Gwenog could feel Tonks's eyes on her, and she turned to see the Metamorphmagus giving her an incredulous expression. "What the hell are you still doing here? Go get out on that field."

With widened eyes, Gwenog stood up. The medics were just barely rushing to Audra, so Gwenog allowed herself a moment to breath.

"What… what if I fail my team?" she asked softly, glancing down at Tonks, who rolled her eyes and thrusted Gwenog's broom into her hands.

"You know better than to even entertain that idea," Tonks said, her gold eyes intense. "Now, go do something amazing."

After one last moment of hesitation, the Quidditch player nodded, mounted her broom, and flew off to the center of the pitch. When both her Captain and the Referee accepted it, Gwenog officially entered the game.

And oh what a game it was—a giant, disastrous, incredible mess of a game.

Gwenog was a good flier, moving on instinct, but her lack of training put her at a disadvantage.

Unlike everyone on the team, she had not done Quidditch in school, and, having only been there for a month and a half, she was the newest member. One of the only reasons the Captain had let her come to this game as a reserve was because she was the only extra Beater they had.

For a while, she kept almost falling off her broom, and it was embarrassing. The commentator mentioned a few times that this was her first time playing an official game, and every time he spoke her name, her cheeks flushed in a mix of anger and shame.

Fortunately, Gwenog thrived off of emotions. The more angry she got, the more determine she was to prove herself, the steadier she was on her broom. Within two hours, she looked as comfortable as Audra had.

But the game didn't stop there.

It didn't stop at five hours either.

By hour seven, over half of the Harpies had called in their reserves.

By hour nine, Audra was declared fit enough to play again.

Gwenog felt her heart drop when her Captain turned to her and Elle, the other Beater. Gwenog was sure that she was being sent back to the stands—she really wanted to see a game all the way through.

"Elle," the Captain barked. "Go eat and rest up. I don't want Audra playing for too long and injuring herself."

Gwenog stared at her Captain with wide eyes for a moment, only to have the older woman shake her head. "You have loads of gumption, Jones. We need that today."

Gwenog was astounded, but a grin quickly broke through her shocked expression. "I won't let you down Cap," she said, her eyes bright as she realized that, right then, she became an official part of the team. The Captain accepted her, and she was needed.

The Snitch was finally caught during the fourteenth hour. Despite her exhaustion, Gwenog managed to remain on her broom for the entire game while even her Captain had called in a reserve at one point.

She was hailed a prodigy, an inspiration; it felt impossible.

Back in the hotel room, Hollyhead Harpies having won, Gwenog was barely able to stand up in the shower. When she stumbled into bed, immediately pulled into the arms of her girlfriend, she knew moving would be hard the next day.

She wouldn't change this feeling for anything else in the world.

"I'm so proud of you," Tonks whispered, and Gwenog fell asleep with a smile, knowing she had proved herself to be worthy of everything she had.

* * *

 **A/N 2.0**

 **Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Ami's Audio #7: Write about doing/experiencing something unbelievable**

 **Lyric Alley #11: Flying like a cannonball, falling to the earth.**

 **Count Your Buttons (word) #1: Disastrous**

 **Disney Challenge (dialogue) #2: "She did that on purpose!" / "Obviously."**

 **Sharing is Caring September #1: Hotel**

 **Emy's Emporium #8: Write about someone inspirational**

 **Lo's Lowdown #6: (word) instinct**

 **Amber's Attic #6: Failure is when you talk yourself out of becoming something amazing**


	4. Something Better

**This was written for Hogwarts, where I am a Slytherin (hiss hiss): Assignment #3**

 **Women's History #3:** **Write about someone changing another person's view or opinion.**

 **This is also includes a bunch of other Prompts. You can find those listed after the fic.**

 **.**

 **Warnings: Don't think there are any. This is fluff. Straight fluff... or... well... gay fluff...**

 **Rating: like.. K+ I think. Like I said. fluff.**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 694**

* * *

 **Something Better**

The first time Viktor truly laid eyes eyes on Cedric, the Hufflepuff had finished training—his tousled hair was falling alluringly in grey eyes, and his training robes were clinging to his body quite gorgeously. Cedric moved with an unexplainable grace; Viktor was enthralled.

"How ya doin'?" Viktor asked, trying to imitate the way he had heard some Hogwarts students speak.

Cedric's lips twitched up into an amused smile. "Good, how are you?" he responded. Viktor decided he wanted to do everything he could to make him smile again.

"Just trying not to stare."

Cedric laughed at Viktor's words, and it made him feel warm.

.

"I am thinking that you are insane," Viktor said, shaking his head and pulling the brown flight goggles off of his head. "Not a thing is better than flying."

The Quidditch player watched as Cedric rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Viktor. Not everything is about Quidditch."

Viktor laughed incredulously, shaking his head. Cedric was entertaining; Viktor found him to be sweet and charming, but deluded as well. Nothing was better than the freedom of flying.

The two of them were on the edge of the Quidditch pitch, brooms resting on shoulders; they had taken to practicing together, despite Quidditch being canceled for the year at Hogwarts and Krum taking a leave of absence from his professional playing for the Triwizard Tournament.

"Just trust me," Cedric said, his lips quirking into a grin as his stance relaxed. He began to walk to the changing room. "We will find something that you enjoy just as much."

"Not likely," Viktor muttered. Yet, he still found himself compelled to follow, almost like a lost puppy.

.

"Papier-mâché," Cedric said, slapping a magazine on to the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall. Viktor frowned and picked up the magazine, an old Quidditch issue that Viktor knew to have an article about him.

"I have read this," Viktor said with a frown. "There is not anything about… papier-mâché."

Cedric pouted softly, sitting beside Viktor and snatching the magazine from him. "It's not in the magazine. We make it out of the magazine."

Viktor snorted; Cedric was getting more desperate. In the last few weeks, Viktor had tried everything from painting to turning Harry's hair an ugly peach color. He'd had fun, but there was nothing he had tried that came close to the feeling of flying.

"Ricky," Viktor whined, ignoring the look of annoyance that crossed Cedric's features at the nickname. "No more new things. I beg you."

Cedric frowned and let the magazine drop to the table. "Fine, Vicky. I give up. You win. Nothing is better than flying," he said.

Viktor felt his features slip into a grin, and he turned back to his breakfast. "I knew you vould see things correctly."

Cedric was quiet for a moment, and Viktor silently celebrated his victory. His joy was short lived, though, and he soon started to feel a little sorry that he had dashed Cedric's hopes of finding him something new to enjoy.

Then Cedric let out a soft cry. "There's a bee on me!" he shouted, sounding distressed, and Viktor turned quickly to the Hufflepuff, startled that he was scared of such a small thing. No matter the case, Viktor was intent on protecting Cedric.

"Vhere is it?" Viktor said, eyes wide, expecting to find a bee to swat. Instead, his cheeks were grabbed and warm lips were pressed against his.

Cedric was kissing him. And it was warm and perfect and surprising. Then it was over.

"Vhere is the bee?" Viktor asked, blinking extensively. Cedric let out a soft laugh.

"The bee was just a way to get you to look at me," Cedric said softly, still holding Viktor's cheeks in his hands. Viktor noticed that Cedric's thumb was moving, and it was the best thing he had ever felt. He even closed his eyes and nuzzled into the warmth.

Viktor hear Cedric chuckle softly. "Can it be?" he murmured. "Have I finally found something you like better than flying?"

A light noise escaped Viktor's throat. "Maybe," he breathed before leaning in once more, sighing when he was pressed into the warmth of Cedric's lips.

* * *

 **A/N 2.0:**

 **Hogwarts Assignment #3: Women's History task #3: Write about someone changing another person's view or opinion.**

 **.**

 **Writing Clubs:**

 **Count Your Buttons (object) #2: Magazine**

 **Disney Challenge (song) #3: (dialogue) "Just trust me."**

 **Showtime #1: (dialogue) "Can it be?"**

 **Sophie's Shelf #14: Cedric/Viktor**

 **Film Festival #24: (dialogue) "How ya doin'?" / "Good, how are you?" / "Just trying not to stare."**

 **Angel's Arcade #12 Charmy:**

 **(trait) Charming**

 **(color) Peach**

 **(animal) Bee**

 **(object) Brown goggles**

 **.**

 **Slash September: Viktor**


	5. Paint Splatters

**This was written for Hogwarts, where I am a Slytherin (hiss hiss): Assignment #5**

 **Dark Charms, task #2:** **Ebulio: Write about an introvert.**

 **.**

 **This is also for a lot of other things... All additional prompts are listed after the fic.**

 **.**

 **Not going to lie... I'm not doing great. However, I have lovely people in my life. Honestly... Kim, Ari, Amber, and Elizabeth... I don't know what I'd do without you. Honestly, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have written this, and I probably would still curled up crying under my blankets. It's weird saying this publicly, but I'm gonna. Because of you guys, I made myself eat, drink, and even leave my dorm (granted, I ended up crying outside of the library... but that's beside the point). You are incredible, and I love you dearly.**

 **.**

 **Brief Summary: Dean absolutely loves autumn; Blaise loves Dean.**

 **Warnings: Brief mention of war... very, very light graphic image... super light, really... not much of an image at all.**

 **Rating: Which thing was below a T? I forgot... but it would be that.**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 731**

* * *

 **Paint Splatters**

Autumn, frankly, was Dean's favorite season. Sure, summer was fun for swimming in various lakes, winter was good for cuddles and hot chocolate, and spring had a pretty color palette, but nothing was better than the quiet solitude of autumn.

He sat on a porch swing, a fuzzy blanket pooled around his waist as he painted the landscape in front of him. One of his favorite parts of autumn was the colors, and he found that capturing their beauty on a blank canvas was relaxing—dealing with paints and brushes was, quite honestly, much more enjoyable than dealing with most people.

"I always thought you were too introverted for a Gryffindor," a soft voice commented, startling Dean out of his concentration. The Gryffindor stared down at the paintbrush that had fallen out of his hand, grimacing at the way the maroon paint had been splattered so pointlessly on the white-painted porch—it almost looked like blood, but Dean didn't want to think about that. The memories from the war were just too fresh.

"And I always found you to be too soft," Dean said, straightening up and twisting his torso to look at his boyfriend. Blaise was wearing his usual smirk as he leaned up against the doorframe that led into a comfortable sitting room. "For a Slytherin."

The pair of them were staying at Dean's mother's country home; it had been a safe haven for them during the war—Dean had been running from the ministry, and Blaise had been running from Voldemort—and it was still a safe haven for them now. The only difference now was that they weren't running for their lives, but were just hiding from society as a whole. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

"You're going to catch a cold, letting your blanket fall down like that," Blaise scolded playfully, his smirk ever present. Dean almost wanted to slap that expression off of his boyfriend, but he also felt a strong desire to kiss him.

Instead, he let out a loud sneeze, his eyes widening in surprise before closing at the force of air leaving his body.

"I told you," Blaise said blandly, leaving his post by the doorframe and walking over to Dean, pulling a scarf out of the pocket of his long coat. Dean rolled his eyes but still allowed Blaise to wrap it carefully around his neck. "If you aren't careful, you will die a stupid, avoidable death."

"You wish," Dean shot back, his eyes bright as he let himself relax into the warmth the scarf brought. "That way, you could find someone who doesn't spend all of his time painting."

Blaise snorted before bending down to pick up the fallen paintbrush. Dean noticed how Blaise muttered a soft, wandless spell under his breath, and he stretched his head so he could see if his boyfriend had cleaned up the paint splatters.

A small smile made its way to his lips when he saw that Blaise hadn't cleaned the splatters up, but had made them form a small bouquet of painted flowers—he loved how creative his boyfriend was.

"What a typical Gryffindor thing to say," Blaise said, handing the brush back to Dean before sitting down beside him on the porch swing.

"I thought I was too much of an introvert to be a Gryffindor," Dean challenged, turning away from Blaise and back to his painting, wanting to finish the piece of art before it got too dark.

"Oh shush. Don't go using my past words against me." Blaise leaned his head gently on Dean's shoulder; Dean could practically feel the steady beat of his boyfriend's heart. "But I'm serious, Dean. No one can replace you."

Another smile tugged at Dean's lips, but he still kept his eyes on his artwork. "You must be in denial, love," Dean said softly. "There are better people out there in the world. I'm just one of many."

"Ah. I best pack my bags then, yeah?" Blaise joked. From the tone of his voice, Dean figured he must be rolling his eyes. He would have ignored the comment and continued painting as he was, but he felt a soft hand pulling at his cheek, making him look at Blaise.

"I love you, and you only," Blaise said softly as he leaned in, pressing a short and warm kiss to Dean's lips. "Paint splatters and all."

* * *

 **A/N 2.0**

 **Seasonal Challenge:**

 **\- October 4th 2018 - National Golf Day: Write about something that relaxes a character.**

 **\- Autumn Challenge: (object) Scarf**

 **\- Color: Maroon**

 **\- Birthstone: Lapis Lazuli - (dialogue) "No one can replace you."**

 **\- Flower: Helenium - (word) Sneeze**

 **\- Air Element: (object) Coat**

 **\- Audrey's Dessert (Frosting): Fudge: "You wish."**

 **\- Ravenclaw Themed: (Trait) Creative**

 **\- Astronomy Prompt: (Word) Beauty**

 **September Writing Club:**

 **\- Sophie's Shelf #13: Dean/Blaise**

 **\- Showtime #8: (word) Denial**

 **Slash September: Dean**


	6. Unexpected

**Aaaaand I'm back with another fic. I managed a drabble!**

 **.**

 **This was written for some Hogwarts stuff (where I am a Slytherin... Hiss hiss)**

 **.**

 **Marauders Map:**

 **\- #163 The Ministry Press: (object) Newspaper**

 **\- #59 The Great Hall: (setting) Sorting Ceremony**

 **.**

 **Button Bonanza Yellow #2. Great Hall**

 **.**

 **Writing Club:**

 **\- Character Appreciation #26: (Location) Hogwarts**

 **\- Lyric Alley #12: So just let me be myself**

 **.**

 **Warnings: Very slight hint of a poor home life, and general people being rude, judgy people.**

 **Summary: As a member of the Black family, Sirius has quite the roll to live up to; frankly, Sirius doesn't care about his roll... he just wants to be who his is.**

 **Word Count (excluding a/n): 698**

 **Rating: Probably K... maaaaybe K+ but I don't think so**

* * *

 **Unexpected**

"Black, Sirius!" Professor McGonagall's voice called out, and all the students present seemed to quiet down, curious about the fate of the boy from the infamous family.

Sirius took a deep breath before he walked to the stool, feeling the eyes of Hogwarts on him with every move he made.

He heard the whispers too:

"The Blacks are all menaces—"

"His mother is mad—"

"Privileged pureblood—"

"He'll be in Slytherin. All Blacks are—"

It was enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity, but Sirius just clenched his hands into fists and sat himself on the stool, not daring to glance at Professor McGonagall—she was sure to have just as disproving of a look set into her face, just like everyone else.

You're afraid of something, a soft voice sounded out, seeming to project straight into Sirius's mind. It wasn't his own conscious, so Sirius let himself assume that it was the hat that had just been placed atop his head.

Everyone is afraid of something, Sirius replied, closing his eyes, his feet awkwardly propping up on the sides of the stool—it was too tall for him to sit with his feet on the ground.

The hat chuckled softly, the sound reverberating throughout Sirius's head. True. Are you scared of what your mother would do if I don't put you in Slytherin?

Sirius's muscles tightened; he wouldn't deny that he was afraid of that… of her. Yes, but I'm more afraid of losing myself if I were to be put in Slytherin, he thought, forcing his body to relax. Hogwarts has been a place where I've dreamed of being myself, so let me be myself.

But of course. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The hall was silent; nobody clapped, aside from the polite applause from the professors and a few prefects; nobody had been expecting this. Sirius straightened his spine as he stood up, his chin raised slightly.

He walked to the Gryffindor table with pride, but he didn't talk to anyone. He didn't even look at anyone.

"Black," a voice said to his left, and Sirius turned his head to see a young boy with hazel eyes, a large grin, and horribly messy hair.

When they made eye contact, the boy's smile grew. "About time. I've been trying to get your attention for… five minutes, wouldn't you say Lupin?" the boy said, looking past Sirius, who turned his head to see a boy with tawny curls and more than one scar.

"Sounds about right," Lupin said, giving Sirius a small smile before turning to his plate of food.

Sirius frowned; when had food appeared?

"Professor Dumbledore told us to dig in, and you're just staring at your empty plate," the first boy explained, taking initiative and beginning to fill up Sirius's plate for him. "Anyways, my dad made it into today's Prophet. Want to see? Pettigrew! Pass it back!"

A boy who was sitting across the table looked up and nodded, his straw-colored hair bouncing slightly with the movement. "Sure," he said before leaning over the table and passing a newspaper to Sirius, who took it just a little hesitantly—it was open to a story about Fleamont Potter and an award he had won for creating the best haircare potions.

"He's been showing everyone he has met since getting on the train," Lupin said, and Sirius turned slightly to look at him before turning back to the newspaper.

"You're the Potter boy, then?" Sirius said carefully, praying he didn't say the wrong things. "I'm not supposed to talk to you. You and your family would be a… bad influence on me."

Potter laughed, filling up a cup of pumpkin juice and setting it in front of Sirius. "Who told you that?" he asked, his eyes bright.

"My mother," Sirius replied softly, turning to look the boy, a shaky smile on his lips.

The boy raised an eyebrow, placing another roll on Sirius's plate. "You gonna listen?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes just slightly, though he couldn't hold it for long—he only saw sincerity in the other boy, and sincerity was something he craved. "No. Call me Sirius."

"Siriusly?" Potter said, his grin widening. "I'm James. Let's take Hogwarts by storm, eh?"


	7. As Darkness Rises

**This was written for the Marauders Map Madness at Hogwarts (where I am a snek):**

 **\- #87 Dark Tower: (Spell) Morsmordre**

 **\- #150 Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions: (word) Melody**

 **.**

 **There are also a few Writing Club prompts I'll list at the bottom**

 **.**

 **Warnings: Character death (murder). I don't think there is anything else.**

 **Summary: Blaise and Theo were good together until one of them changed; after that, nothing could work the same.**

 **Rating: T? Maybe M because of what's stated in the warning.**

 **Word Count (excluding a/n): 538**

* * *

 **As Darkness Rises**

The wind created a beautiful melody; Theodore thought it fit the situation quite well.

"Theo," Blaise said, his muggle jacket, which reached his knees and reminded Theo of a robe, whipping around him, shrouding him in a cocoon of darkness. "Please Theo. Don't do this."

Theodore took a step forward, his wand hanging loosely between his fingers. He could tell that Blaise wouldn't fight him. "Don't try to change me in anyway," he murmured, taking a moment to look at the beauty in the terror of his lover's expression.

They were atop a cliff, a place that they had frequently gone picnicking at before their seventh year of school. Blaise's back was towards the sheer drop into the roaring ocean below, nearing ever closer to the edge.

During the sunny summer days, the cliffside was beautiful, covered in wildflowers, the sound of the sea a quiet hum. Today, it was dark, and it was dangerous—Theodore thought it was gorgeous.

"We were good once," Blaise said. Theodore shivered at the slight break in his lover's voice. "We can be good again. I know we can."

"Sometimes, who we wish we were, what we wish we could do, it's just not meant to be," Theodore said softly, walking forward still, only stopping when he was directly in front of Blaise.

Gently, Theodore reached his hand up to cup Blaise's cheek, and, out of instinct, Blaise leaned into the touch. "We were good once, together, but now you've become something I cannot be associated with. Us… we are a sacrifice I'm prepared to make."

"I haven't become anything, my love," Blaise said softly, his eyes full of sorrow.

Theodore snarled, his body tensing up slightly and only relaxing when he felt Blaise pull back away from him slightly. "You're nothing more than a blood traitor," Theodore murmured softly, schooling his features and leaning close to Blaise again.

"I don't…" Blaise trailed off, his face contorting in confliction. "I don't believe what the Dark Lord believes, but I'm still me. I'm still the boy who held you all those nights in the dorms after your father was imprisoned. I'm still the boy who kissed you on the edge of the Black Lake after the OWLs."

Theodore smiled softly, the harshness from before completely dissipated. "Yes, I suppose you are," he murmured softly before leaning in even closer and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips—it was soft, and it was careful, and it was loving. Blaise was gripping the lapels of Theodore's robes like his life depended on it.

Slowly, their lips still touching, Theodore raised his wand to Blaise's temple. "Avada Kedavra," he murmured, feeling Blaise's last breath, a light gasp, leaving his lips before he crumpled to the earth.

He vaguely tasted salt but ignored it as he stepped over the body of his lover and lifted his wand to the sky. "Morsmordre," he breathed, watching in fascination as pure darkness shot from his wand and decorated the sky with the Dark Mark.

He had to let his master know that he had completed his task—that he was a devoted servant.

"You're right, my love," Theodore said softly, taking one last look down at Blaise. "You never changed; I did."

* * *

 **A/N 2.0: Writing Club Prompts**

 **\- Character Appreciation #28: (Status) Blood Traitor**

 **\- Disney Challenge #20: "Sometimes, who we wish we were, what we wish we could do, it's just not meant to be."**

 **\- Lyric Alley #8: Don't try to change me in anyway**

 **\- Ami's Audio #13: The Suffering Game - Alt: (word) Sacrifice**


	8. Give the Dog a Treat

**Hello! Boy, do I have a treat for you. Well... actually... not really. This is a really quickly written bit of... something (I don't even know what to call it). I do hope you enjoy, though. It was the first thing I wrote after taking roughly a month off, and I wrote it at like... four in the morning, so there's that.**

 **It has some Hogwarts (where I am a Snek) Writing Club prompts. Those will be listed below.**

 **Summary: Sirius is caught doing something rather embarrassing. Fortunately, it's his boyfriend who catches him. Remus knows everyone's secrets, and he honestly can't help but love the fact that his boyfriend is rather... doglike.**

 **Warnings: I really don't think so. People acting just a little like animals?**

 **Word Count (excluding AN): 418**

* * *

 **Give the Dog a Treat**

"Let's agree to never talk about this again," Sirius said, stuffing the lid on the tin and turning his back to Remus. A blush had settled over his features; Remus couldn't help but laugh at his boyfriend's discomfort.

"Look, Siri," Remus started, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand going out to touch Sirius's thigh. Sirius quickly moved away, standing up almost as soon as Remus sat down. "It's not a big deal. So you've got a taste for—"

"Shut it, Remus. Please," Sirius said, cutting Remus off as he stashed the tin in his trunk, not willing to meet his boyfriend's eyes. "I'd like to keep some of my dignity intact," he added as he positioned himself next to his bed, looking towards the entrance of the dorms, his arms wrapped around his waist.

Remus sighed and stood up, walking to Sirius. He was glad when Sirius didn't try and move away from him. "I won't tell anyone," Remus promised softly as he gently hooked his finger under Sirius's chin and tilted his face up so their eyes met.

"Not even James?" Sirius asked, his voice sounding uncertain, his cheeks stained red.

Remus smiled softly and leaned down to kiss Sirius's lips, almost sighing in relief when his boyfriend returned the kiss. Sirius slowly uncurled his arms and pressed his hands to Remus's chest.

"You don't think it's… that weird?" Sirius's voice was still small, still timid.

Remus preferred it when Sirius was confident, but this side of him made Remus feel something new—the intense desire to protect Sirius. It was stronger than anything he had ever felt before.

"No," Remus said, shifting his hand so it was properly cupping Sirius's cheek; Sirius leaned into it the touch like a puppy. "Professor McGonagall keeps a ball of yarn in her desk, and Peter hoards cheese. I think this is a natural part of being an Animagus."

Sirius cracked a smile, closing his eyes as he relaxed into Remus's hold.

Remus decided to be bold, and he slid his hand a little further, gently scratching behind Sirius's ears. Sirius's right leg twitched, and he let out the softest sound, his lips parting ever so slightly—he didn't even seem to realize his own reactions. Remus was fascinated.

"So… the dog treats… what do they taste like?" Remus asked after a moment, biting his lip as his own curiosity began to take hold.

Sirius opened his eyes, dark grey shining. "Like a biscuit, but way better."

* * *

 **A/N 2.0: WC Prompts**

 **Cookies Cooking Corner #4 Snickers: Write about a guilty pleasure.**

 **Showtime #16 Will I: (word) dignity**

 **Bex's Basement #12 Liza - Write a fluffy wolfstar. (I think this counts as fluff)**


	9. On Weddings and Chocolate Cake

**I'M BACK!**

 **probably for a decent amount of time now... unlike when I was 'back' in January...**

 **.**

 **I wrote this for Liza (as a part of a team bonding exercise for Season 7 of the QLFC, though I'm not technically a part of the team? / also.. she is amazing as all get out, and if I write fluff for anyone, it's for her)**

 **.**

 **This was also written for Hogwarts (for Bex hath commanded me), where I am a Slytherin (hiss hiss): Assignment #7 - Performing Arts Task #2: Write about making something more presentable.**

 **.**

 **There are a couple more prompts listed below the fic.**

 **.**

 **(real short) Summary: Sirius wants something, and... let's be real... Remus can't refuse him anything.**

 **Warnings: None that I can think of. It's fluff (not my usual, I know), so if that's a downside for you, turn away.**

 **Rating: probably K+**

 **Word Count (excluding AN): 575**

* * *

 **On Weddings and Chocolate Cake**

Remus glared at Sirius as the shorter man entered their bedroom, a garment bag hanging suspiciously over his arm.

"No." Remus's voice was clipped, almost a little harsh, but Sirius's grin didn't falter in the slightest.

If anything, his grin grew. There was even a slight skip in his step as he quickly walked to where Remus was lying on the bed (a book sitting open on his blanketed lap). "You certainly look comfortable," Sirius said with a mischievous grin.

Remus chose not to answer and instead watched intently as Sirius set the bag down on the bed, humming softly to himself. Sirius. Humming. That was never a good sign.

Something akin to fear began to bubble up in Remus's chest, and he instinctively dog-eared his page before setting his book on the bedside table (to protect it from whatever Sirius was planning). He then cleared his throat, his arms snaking across his torso, drawing his cardigan tighter to his chest.

This entire situation was not amusing.

Sirius finally glanced up, already in the process of unzipping the bag, his eyes bright. "What is it, my darling?"

"No."

"No?"

Remus sighed before letting his hands fall into his lap. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. The cheer that Sirius gave was almost enough to make Remus smile. Almost.

When Sirius practically vaulted over the bed, pulling Remus into a tight hug, the werewolf was glad he had set his book to the side—it would have been smashed. "I know I'm like, your least favorite person in the universe right now, but I love you."

Okay. Maybe Sirius's excitement could pull a smile to Remus's lips. Just maybe. Or definitely. He was definitely smiling.

He quickly controlled that smile before Sirius pulled away, putting on his most apathetic expression. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Now get off of me before I change my mind."

Sirius laughed, but quickly complied. Within seconds he was off of Remus and completing his task of opening up the garment bag. Inside were matching suits, one having gold trimming and the other having maroon trimming. They were a little… cheesy for Remus's tastes, but they made Sirius happy, so how could he say no?

Seriously. He tried. Twice. Just a few moments ago.

Look at how easily he broke.

"Can't I just wear what I'm wearing?" Remus asked, already knowing he was going to lose this battle. "Just be casual for once?"

Sirius snorted, carefully taking the suits out of their bag and laying them out on the bed. "No offence, Rem, but you don't look presentable."

"We are wedding crashing, Siri. I didn't realize one had to look presentable to crash weddings." Remus couldn't help it, there was amusement laced in the tone of his voice. It was Sirius's turn to look unamused.

He shook his head and tugged Remus into a standing position, barely waiting until the taller man was on his feet before stripping him of his cardigan.

"No, my darling. We must become the Belles of the Ball!" Sirius practically sang. "We must make everyone jealous! We must eat cake!"

Remus tried to curb the smile that threatened to spread across his lips, but he failed. Afterall, Sirius was just so cute, how could he not smile?

"Fine. I'll wear the suit," he relented before letting out a proper grin. "Let's just hope, for your sake, that the bride and groom were smart enough to choose a chocolate cake."

* * *

 **A/N 2.0:**

 **Hogwarts Insane House Challenge #259: (dialogue) "I know I'm like, your least favorite person in the universe right now, but I love you."**

 **Hogwarts 360 Challenge #83: Comfortable**


	10. The Good (ish) Place

**Yo. This was written for some Hogwarts stuff:**

 **\- Insane House Challenge #77: (character) Fred Weasley**

 **\- April Auction day 21: (fandom) The Good Place**

 **\- Hogwarts Scavenger #88: Write something exactly 666 words**

 **.**

 **Alright. This is a bit of a "The Good Place" crossover, but you don't really have to have seen it to read this. Also, it doesn't give away any spoilers (aka, everything I describe here is described in the first episode)**

 **.**

 **Warnings: Character death (this is the afterlife, after all), swearing, and slight hints at grief and ptsd.**

 **Summary: Fred Weasley wakes up, after fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts, to find that the afterlife was not as he had expected it to be.**

 **Rating: High T (for swearing)**

 **Word Count (Excluding A/N): 666**

* * *

 **The Good (ish) Place**

When Fred opened his eyes, everything was bright. Too bright, considering that when he closed them it was night time.

It was also calm.

Which… again… didn't line up with when he closed his eyes.

He blinked away the vision of the Battle, trying to ignore the screams of pain, or anger that people had been screaming.

Granted, they were all phantom screams, but they were still far too present in Fred's mind. He tried blocking them out, but all he managed to do was shut his eyes. So, he opened them again. And, this time, he actually took a glance around.

He was in a room, a very calm and peaceful room that was well lit. On the wall, or maybe hanging suspended in the air, were the words: Welcome! Everything is fine.

If there was one thing Fred suspected, it was that nothing was truly 'fine.'

…

Apparently, he was in heaven (which he almost found offensive). Well, it wasn't really heaven, but it was a close equivalent. It was the Good Place, where he would be allowed to live in eternal happiness.

Frankly, Fred called bull on it; there was no way that _he_ had gotten into the _Good Place_. Sure, he was a good human being, but the requirements were insane! Most people in the Good Place had never done anything wrong in their lives! While Fred? Fred had helped design a product to eavesdrop with less of a chance of being caught than 99% of other methods.

No, he didn't belong in this _Good Place._

But that didn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of this beautiful opportunity in front of him.

…

It didn't take him long to find out that some of his 'deeds' had been altered.

Like, for instance, the Umbitch… excuse me… Umbridge incident with the fireworks. For some reason, the higher-ups in the Good Place had thought that Fred (along with George, Lee Jordan, and the Golden Trio) had calmly talked Umbridge into changing their ways and hosted a party at the end of the year to celebrate turning another person to the light side.

That wasn't the only story that had gotten changed. The Marauder's Map existed solely to help younger students get around the castle; Weasley's Wizard Wheezes doesn't sell pranks, only Pepper-up potions; and Dudley Dursley had only ever been given normal, Muggle candies.

It was boring. It was dull. They'd practically ripped all of the fun out of his life.

But it was a little entertaining.

…

Most of the things Fred encountered in the Good Place were met with half-amused smiles and slight confusion (though he didn't let the confusion show).

However, learning that he had a soulmate waiting for him here took away the entertainment of it all. Especially when he learned who it was.

"I would have hoped you would make it through the Battle," Fred whispered as he was finally left alone with Lee Jordan: Quidditch commentary extraordinaire, incredible best friend, and overall beautiful man.

Lee gave a half shrug. "Technically I did. Lived until morning… held out long enough to see that your family made it through without any substantial injuries."

"They're all alive?" Fred felt a pang in his chest. The pain was eased slightly when Lee pulled him into a tight hug.

…

"You know we don't belong here, right?" Lee asked, less than two hours of them coming together as soulmates (and, to be honest, Fred wasn't complaining in the slightest).

Fred laughed, turning to face Lee. "Of course we don't. It's an insult to our name!" he shouted before whispering, "but they don't know that we know that we don't belong."

Lee was silent for a minute, a particular glint in his eye that reminded Fred of their good days back in school. "So, we are fucking shit up, right?" he asked, his grin widening.

It only took Fred a split second to answer. "I knew there was a reason that we are soulmates."


	11. Under the Stairs

**Yo. Hogwarts. I'm a Snek. woot**

 **.**

 **Hogwarts Scavenger #90: Write a fic about a Muggle or Squib**

 **April Auction: (character) Arabella Figg - coins earned: 10**

 **.**

 **Warnings: mentions of bad home life**

 **Rating: probably K+.. maybe T**

 **Word Count (excluding a/n): 489**

* * *

 **Under the Stairs**

Arabella Figg was not a fan of the way the Dursley family treated Harry Potter. Of course, she hadn't seen anything truly awful, but even still she couldn't stand the way Vernon glared at Harry, or the way Petunia turned her nose up, or the way Dudley roughly snatched things.

It just didn't sit right with her to know that a boy was treated with such contempt by the people who were supposed to be his family. So she did the only thing she could think of to help.

She offered to take the boy off of the Dursley's hands for a week while they went on holiday.

They would have dropped him off at Vernon's sisters' place, and Arabella _knew_ that Marge did not like Harry, so it wasn't like she was taking him away from any fun holiday. If anything, she was saving him from a week of feeding dogs and dealing with snide comments. Arabella had seen first hand that Marge could never hold herself back from making snide comments.

Vernon looked at Arabella with a suspicious glint in his eye after she offered to take Harry, but relented as soon as she explained that she would like someone to "look after the cats." It seemed that Vernon truly didn't want Harry to have a decent time at all and would rather he do some work instead of take a break.

So, after being promised that Harry would work, Vernon brought the eight-year-old over to Arabella's house, not even bothering to say goodbye after dropping him off.

Harry looked up at Arabella, chewing nervously on his lower lip and gripping his small duffle bag with his small hands. "Is there a cot under your stairs?" he asked anxiously. His eyes quickly widened before dropping to stare at Arabella's feet. "I-If not, that's fine. I can sleep anywhere."

Confusion passed through Arabella. Under the stairs? She quickly shook her confusion away and invited Harry inside. "No, Harry, I have made up the guest bedroom for you. It should be roughly the size of your own bedroom, considering your house has the same floor plan."

Harry, still gripping his duffle bag in a white-knuckled hold, finally raised his eyes. "Your guest room is under the stairs then, ma'am?"

Under the stairs. Horror washed over Arabella as it dawned on her that Harry might actually sleep under the stairs over at the Dursley household. "No, love," she said, her voice softer than before. "You get a real bedroom over here, okay?"

Harry simply nodded and allowed Arabella to show him to where he would be sleeping.

Arabella Figg was _not_ a fan of the way the Dursley family treated Harry Potter, and Dumbledore _would_ be getting a letter. And, no matter what anyone said, Arabella would not be letting Harry go back to the Dursleys without some major adjustments, if she even let them take him back at all.


	12. Good Dreams in Dark Times

**Yo. Hogwarts. Snek snek snek.**

 **.**

 **April Auction: sandman - Coins gained: 6**

 **Insane #181: (theme) Risk-Taking**

 **.**

 **Warnings: mentions of torture, war, nightmares, and depression ish**

 **Rating: probably T**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 321**

* * *

 **Good Dreams in Dark Times**

Neville knew that what he was doing could get him in major trouble.

Actually, forget major trouble. Between sneaking out of his dorm at night, using magic outside of class, and doing good deeds, he would probably be subject to the Cruciatus Curse. It might even been one of the students that he was trying to help that would be forced to use the Unforgivable on him.

But that didn't matter. He needed to _do_ something, even if this was all he could do.

After ensuring that he was disillusioned, he slipped out of the Gryffindor common room and began his trek to the Ravenclaws. The work was simple: enter the dorms one by one, sprinkle a little powder over each bed, and ensure that no one catches him.

The dust was something of his own creation. It was a bit like a sleeping potion, one that rid the user of nightmares, but was a little more potent due to the plants that he used. He had seen similar things done in more than one of his Herbology books.

His actions didn't do much; the school wasn't rid of the Carrow twins or Headmaster Snape, nor was the war won. But, nightmares were banished, and good dreams were plenty.

One morning, he had heard a half-blood from Ravenclaw whispering about the legend of the Sandman. She had said that only _he_ was powerful enough to bring good dreams in such dark times. And that was enough for Neville.

He had finished with the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw common rooms by midnight, and quickly set off towards the Slytherin common room, his hand on his wand. This was the Carrows' territory, and he hated to be anywhere near them.

He set his jaw, however, and marched onward, determined to give each and every student a reprieve from suffering—and he found that the Slytherins tended to have the worst nightmares out of everyone.


	13. A Choice to Make

**Hogwarts. I'm a snake. woot woot**

 **.**

 **April Auction: Dark!au - Coins gained: 8**

 **.**

 **Warnings: Character death and war**

 **Rating: T**

 **Word count (excluding a/n): 396**

* * *

 **A Choice to Make**

Marlene stared at the the remains of her home, something boiling inside of her—what is was, she wasn't sure. It might have been fear, or sadness. But, she suspected, it was anger.

At what, she had absolutely no idea. Herself, for going out with her girlfriend and leaving her parents alone. Dorcas, for not being there for her parents either. Dumbledore, for not doing his part to protect the innocents in this war. Voldemort, for being the bastard that actually ordered this to be done.

She stared at the remains of her home for minutes… hours… nearly half a day… before she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She wanted to throw it off, but she didn't. Instead, she turned around to glance at Dorcas.

Her girlfriend was clearly concerned, but Marlene didn't care. Why should she?

"Come on, Lena," Dorcas whispered, pulling Marlene into her arms. Normally, Marlene would melt into the caring embrace of her girlfriend, but things weren't normal anymore.

So she pushed Dorcas away, a snarl on her lips. "Get away from me," she said, her voice dangerously low.

"Love, let's go, yeah? We can go to my home, get you cleaned up." Dorcas's voice was soft and calming, and she almost convinced Marlene to let go—to give in.

But she wouldn't.

"Go away," she growled. Her eyes were flashing as she reached for her wand, actually prepared to use it. "You have done nothing but keep me from protecting my family."

Marlene watched as confusion flitted over Dorcas's features, and she watched as Dorcas attempted to come up with a response to her accusation, but then she could watch no longer.

"You have a choice, Dorcas," Marlene said, taking a step towards the girl, wand held in a level grip. "Join me in seeking vengeance against Voldemort, or become a part of fulfilling it."

There was genuine fear in Dorcas's eyes. Marlene watched as a delicate bead of sweat ran down the side of her neck. "This isn't like you, Lena," Dorcas whispered. She would have continued, had even opened her mouth to do so, but Marlene was merciless.

As Dorcas fell to the pavement, Marlene held back something that was fighting to bubble out of her chest. She wasn't sure if it was a laugh or a sob, but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was avenging her parents.


	14. Be Okay

**Hogwarts. Snek.**

 **April Action: James/Regulus**

 **.**

 **Warnings: Character death (implied)**

 **Rating: Probably T**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 380**

* * *

 **Be Okay**

James was pacing back and forth. It was annoying.

"Mate. Calm yourself. He will be here," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. They were outside of the Leaky Cauldron on the Muggle side of London. Sirius was leaning against his bike; James was still pacing.

And then he was pacing some more, his steps a little quicker. "What if he didn't make it out in time? What if he got caught? What if—"

"Prongs, I swear," Sirius said, standing up and catching James by the wrist. "If you don't stop talking, I'm going to spell your mouth shut."

His threat was empty, but it did make James be quiet, if even just for a moment.

Sirius sighed and let go of James's arms. "Look. My brother is resourceful, and he loves you. Nothing could stop him from coming to you, okay?"

James bit his lip, but nodded all the same. Even with the reassurance he was worried, though. They had been planning this ever since James had graduated from Hogwarts; the night after Regulus graduated, they were going to meet outside of the Leaky Cauldron, then they were going to start their lives together no matter what the adversity that they faced.

It was the night after Regulus's graduation.

And he was late.

Sighing, James sat himself down by the wheel of Sirius's bike, chewing anxiously on his lower lip. "I just want him to be okay," James whispered.

Sirius, leaning against the seat of his bike again, whispered back to James, "I do too."

It was silent for a moment.

Then the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened up.

Instantly, both James and Sirius were on their feet, expecting to look upon Regulus. They got Professor McGonagall instead.

"Remus told me I could find you two here," she said. There was a sadness in her voice that sent fear racing through James's veins.

He swallowed thickly before nodding. "Did he say why?" he asked, too afraid to ask her why she had been looking for them.

McGonagall nodded with the same heaviness that James had. "I'm so sorry. Regulus…"

James closed his eyes, not wanting to hear the rest. He couldn't handle the rest.

Still, McGonagall continued. "Regulus went missing this morning, and Voldemort just declared him to be dead."


	15. Things We Wish Were Different

**Yo. Apparently I took a huge break? Like... bye bye, Lucy...**

 **But I'm sorta back now. Don't know for how long or whatever, but I'm back.**

 **This is for the Revived Pairing the Character Competition** **—Pairing: Kingsley/Bellatrix**

 **Warnings: Allusions to arranged marriages and canon trauma? I don't even know if this fic needs warnings...**

 **Word Count: 507 (fight me)**

* * *

 **Things We Wish Were Different**

Kingsley took a deep breath, trying to sharpen his mind and harden his heart.

He didn't want to do this today, but he knew he had to—for the safety of the wizarding world and to bring Alice and Frank justice. This is what things had turned into, and he had no choice but to follow through.

With a deep breath, he pocketed what was in his hands.

…

 _"Trixie," Kingsley whispered, hands slipping under her shirt and settling on her waist. Her skin was warm to the touch; she responded by kissing him deeper._

 _He loved her despite his reservations. He loved her with everything he had in him._

 _"Trixie." This time he pulled away from her, though he kept his hands on her waist. Bellatrix was looking at him with such intensity that he nearly dove for her mouth again, but he held himself back. The Hogwarts Express would be departing soon, and they needed to be on it._

 _"Please come with me?" He already knew what her answer would be, but he asked the question anyway. He needed her. "Please. I can keep you safe from them… from him. You know what will happen if you go back."_

 _She stayed silent, but the intensity of her stare remained._

 _He tried again. "Please? We can start a life together."_

 _Reluctantly, she grabbed his hands, taking them off of her waist and holding them as she took a step back._

 _"The wedding is already set, and my initiation…" she paused before letting go of Kingsley's hands and rolled up her left sleeve, revealing her mark. "It has all already happened."_

 _Kingsley inhaled sharply, his eyes locked on the dark, moving ink on her pale skin. "When." His voice was sharper than he meant it to be._

 _"Easter Holidays," she replied, her own tone taking on an icy edge—she did this when she closed herself off._

 _"How did I not know?"_

 _She was silent for a moment before she reached up on her toes to press a careful kiss to his lips. He instinctively returned it. "You've been blinded by love, my King," she whispered. As she did so, Kingsley felt her slip something into one of his hands, but he didn't question it. When she did something that mattered to her, he knew that she did it silently._

 _After giving him one last, lingering look, she swept out of the room, leaving Kingsley alone with just a memory of their last kiss on his lips and a pendant of the Black family crest in his hand. The Bellatrix he knew wouldn't be returning; she left herself with her pendant. On that day, Bellatrix Lestrange was born: insane and desperately wishing she had taken her chance._

…

"Shacklebolt, the wards have gone off. We have less than ten minutes to strike. Are you ready?"

Kingsley glanced up as the lead Auror on the Lestrange case spoke to him. He took a deep breath, double checking that her pendant was still in his pocket, before he answered.

"Yes sir."


	16. I Don't Care (What You Are)

**YO. This is for PTC. Bellatrix x Remus. Yeah. I wanna explore this more.**

 **I don't think this really has warnings. Maybe slight depression and a mention of blood?**

 **Word Count: 454**

* * *

 **I Don't Care (What You Are)**

No matter how many times Remus woke up in the Hospital Wing, unable to remember the walk there with Madam Pomphry or the Marauders, the pain never eased. It didn't matter how many comforting hands he had feeding him recover potions or tucking a blanket up to his chin, nor did it matter if he had someone to talk to or just someone to sit with him.

Or… That's what he thought.

Now that he was waking up in the forest, completely alone, things were so much worse. He winced as he sat up, his naked body uncovered by clothes but covered in injuries—scratches, gouges, scrapes… mainly injuries with blood.

This was much worse, both physically and emotionally. With Lily and James in hiding, Peter doing work for Dumbledore, and Sirius keeping his distance, the full moon was excruciating.

A branch snapped, somewhere off to his right, and his eyes snapped to the sound, widening when he saw a figure. It was a figure that looked oh so familiar in stance, but oh so different in personality.

"I found your clothes," she sang, head tilted, eyes just as bright as Sirius's used to be, back before Remus had shut him out.

Remus scrambled back, instinctively reaching for his wand, but realizing he had left it with his clothes the night before.

She let out a laugh. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you," she said, her voice surprisingly delicate, but dangerous at the same time. "I believe you are quite a bit more dangerous than I am."

His eyes widened once more, but he said nothing at first. He simply tugged his knees to his chest, wanting to hide as much of himself as he could.

It was almost a full minute before he spoke. "I don't believe that for a moment, Miss Black," he said, his voice scratchy from a night of howling.

Bellatrix laughed before walking towards him, slowly, as if he were still a wild animal. "So you know who I am." It wasn't a question; he didn't bother answering.

"And you know what I am." His words weren't a question either.

She smiled, her eyes glinting—it hurt him to see that glint. It was just so familiar. "I can help you," she said, reaching her hand out to stroke his cheek. He instinctively leaned into it. Her hand was cold.

"I don't deserve to be helped," he whispered. She shook her head and leaned even closer. He almost pulled away, but couldn't bring himself to. "I'm dangerous."

Her smile softened, and she pressed her palm to his cheek as she leaned forward to kiss his lips. He was surprised by how gentle it was. "I like dangerous," she replied.


	17. Bringing Him In

**Hey this isn't great, but it works. and it's making me write. so yay.**

 **Written for PTC: Lucius Malfoy**

 **Warnings: Implied violence and mentions of blood.**

 **Word Count: 302**

* * *

 **Bringing Him In**

Lucius smirked softly as he watched the youngest Black boy walk into the Malfoy Manor. He had been the one to recommend that Regulus join the Death Eaters, despite being only fifteen, and he was more than glad to see that the Dark Lord had taken his suggestion seriously.

He had seen Regulus, even talked with him, at events hosted by families in their circle. Even from a young age, Lucius believed Regulus to be special. Very special. The way he stood… the way he spoke… Lucius was enthralled.

The Death Eaters circled in one of the manor's sitting rooms, prepared to start the initiation ceremony. No one spoke; Regulus stood in the center.

Lucius watched with anticipation. He had seen many Death Eaters take the Dark Mark, and each had taken it differently. Some cried, some screamed, and some passed out. He, himself, had bitten his tongue so hard his mouth had filled with blood.

But Regulus? Regulus was silent. His eyes were hard, but he was quiet. A vein stood out in his forehead, and his jaw was clenched, but he didn't make a sound—he didn't falter at all.

Lucius felt breathless.

"You're staring," Goyle said after the ceremony was over. Dolohov and the Carrow siblings flanked Regulus, impressed by his stoic display, but Lucius remained against the edges of the wall. It was time to socialize, but Lucius really didn't feel like socializing.

He just wanted to be beside Regulus. He wanted to be the _only_ one beside Regulus.

"And you're daft," Lucius said with a shrug before looking Regulus over one last time. He was beautiful, but Lucius would have plenty of time to get to know the boy. He nodded one last time to Goyle before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room.


	18. I Love You (and I'll say it out loud)

**Sup! I'm here with more PTC! NarcissaPansy is my agenda, and if my short drabble doesn't convince you of their love, read Cheeky Slytherin Lass's fic "Habits of my Heart" cause it hella convinced me. FF.N doesn't allow linking, so I can't link it... but please. Read it**

 **Word count: 386**

* * *

 **I Love You (and I'll say it out loud)**

Pansy wrung her hands, her eyes dancing from side to side. She was meeting her… lover? Girlfriend? She patted the lump in the pocket of her cloak… Fiancé?

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

She looked down the street again, nerves pooling at the bottom of her stomach. This was the first time they would be meeting out in the open. Out where anyone could see them. Out where they had no social obligation pulling them apart.

What if _she_ didn't like Pansy without the element of secrecy? What if—

"You are always early," Narcissa said from behind Pansy, surprising the younger woman so much that when she stood up, she knocked her chair over.

Pansy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she mentally chided herself for making a fool of herself. She was nervous, but didn't know why. She and Narcissa had been together for years at this point, why should today be any different?

Her eyes traveled to Narcissa's ringless finger. Right. Today was different because Narcissa was no longer married.

When Pansy caught Narcissa's gaze again, the older woman smiled and waved her hand, righting Pansy's chair. "Shall we sit?" she asked. However, before Pansy could even nod, Narcissa took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and pulled Pansy into a soft kiss.

Narcissa pulled back only when Pansy's nerves had melted away. She smiled, then gestured towards the chair. "Now shall we sit?"

Pansy laughed softly and sat down. "I love that we can do that," she said as Narcissa sat across from her, leaning forward on the table and taking Narcissa's hands in her own. "That I can do this," she added, looking down at their hands with a wistful smile.

"And I love you," Narcissa replied, squeezing Pansy's hands, prompting the younger woman to look up. "I meant what I said. I've always meant it."

A brief memory of the two, hidden away and wrapped in each other, popped into Pansy's mind. It wasn't a specific memory, but more of an idea or a situation that they commonly found themselves in—promising that once everything was over, they would live life together out in the open.

"I have a ring," Pansy said quietly. She would be nervous if Narcissa's touch wasn't keeping her grounded.

Narcissa smiled. "I have a bare finger."


	19. The Healing Kiss

**I think PTC is the only thing actually keeping me active rn. Drabbles for the win!**

 **I should probably make a PTC collection... hmmm...**

 **anyways. This time, on PTC, is PansyGinny. I love them. I want more. If you wanna gimme good PansyGinny fics, I'd love you forever.**

 **Word Count: 606**

* * *

 **The Healing Kiss**

Pansy's heart skipped a beat.

There she was, long red hair sprawled awkwardly beneath her, torn quidditch robes folded over the foot of the bed. Her body was covered by a white blanket, but if it was as beat up as her face… Pansy shuddered at the thought of the pain she must be in. Even from a distance, she could see the swelling of a nasty bruise on her left cheek. Dried blood caked the right side of her face; the cut the blood fell from was high on her forehead. Her lip was split, too.

Pansy still thought she was beautiful.

Gorgeous. Breathtaking. It hurt to see her like this.

"Parkinson!" Pansy's boss, Eloise Harken, barked.

Pansy whirled around to face the older woman, a look of guilt on her face. "Yes ma'am?"

Eloise gave Pansy a scrutinizing glare before nodding her head towards the room Pansy had just been looking into. "New patient. Ginevra Weasley. Been through trauma and is mostly checked out. Has a no-magic order out right now, so she'll need a hand washing."

Pansy frowned. No-magic order's were tricky business. It usually meant that the patient was under extensive healing spells or potions. Her heart skipped another beat.

After getting a raised eyebrow from Eloise, Pansy nodded. "Yes ma'am. I'll take care of it."

As a Healer's Assistant, Pansy had a lot of jobs like this one: clean the patient, ensure they have food, keep them comfortable, and so on. Usually, it was an absolute pain, but Pansy wasn't bothered by her job today.

She hesitantly knocked on the door. A soft, "Come in," was her response, so she did as directed and walked in.

"My name is Pansy Parkinson. I'm an assistant here. It's time to clean you up," she said, her usual introduction. Her voice had wavered a little, especially when brown eyes shifted to look up at her, but she managed to sound professional.

Ginny smiled, though quickly winced right after. "It's a little strange seeing you here. Nice though." Her voice was pained, but her eyes were ever so gentle.

"We all make choices," Pansy replied, choosing her words as carefully as she could. "I just finally started making good ones."

The laugh that passed Ginny's lips wasn't musical, but it sounded like heaven to Pansy. "I'm glad to hear it," she said, giving Pansy another smile, a smaller one this time.

Pansy nodded before summoning a warm bowl of water and a cloth. "Falmouth Falcons?" she asked, her voice still careful, as she began cleaning the blood off of Ginny's face.

"They fight dirty," Ginny replied, letting her eyes close. "Beaters both sent Bludgers at me. Perfectly timed. Just within the rules."

Pansy almost smiled, though it was bittersweet. "Just within the rules doesn't make it right."

It was silent for a moment. Then Ginny looked up at Pansy. "It doesn't always make it wrong, though. Sometimes breaking the rules is alright."

"You sound like you are rationalizing a decision you either have made or want to make," Pansy instinctively said. She knew the feeling all too well.

"It's actually a decision I want you to make," Ginny said, still looking up at Pansy. Her eyes were so warm, so inviting. "Kiss me?"

It was hard to keep from laughing, but Pansy managed. "I'm at work," she teased. However, she still leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Ginny's lips, careful not to upset the healing cut on her lip.

"I'm sorry I missed your game," Pansy said after she pulled away.

Ginny smiled. "I'm just glad you're here to help clean me up."


	20. Under the Ravenclaw Stands

**PTC, keeping me active. I'm coming at you with that DeanBlaise good stuff.**

 **Warnings: mentions of war and a unfulfilling relationship.**

 **Words: 560 (sorry mama. forgive me)**

* * *

 **Under the Ravenclaw Stands**

It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did.

It wasn't supposed to happen at all.

…

It started in their second year, a game between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Dean was wearing his scarf, clearly a Gryffindor, rooting for the Gryffindor team.

He ran into a scrawny boy headfirst, his face tucked in a bag of Honeyduke's sweets that Fred and George had scored for him during their last Hogsmeade visit—he wasn't sure why, but the twin's _liked_ him.

"Sorry," a clipped tone said, and Dean stared at the boy dressed in green and silver. He only knew the Slytherin by last name: Zabini. He had been in a few classes with him.

The boy seemed nice enough, understated… but also dangerous.

Dean smiled. "It's alright, mate."

Somehow, with only those four words as incentive, they ended up watching the game together, hidden beneath the stands.

…

By third year, it was tradition. They met under the Ravenclaw stand five minutes before each game, neither sporting any house colors.

They never talked outside of these few occasions. It was an odd friendship they created.

…

Fourth year was strange, but they treated the Triwizard Tournament trials as if they were Quidditch events. Their friendship continued.

Dean noticed something off about Zabini. He was always a quiet person, but he seemed more silent and cautious in their fourth year than ever before.

…

Fifth year without Quidditch was hell—Dean finally snapped, lonely and desperate, and began seeing Ginny Weasley. It wasn't enough.

Both of them wanted someone they couldn't have.

…

It felt like a requirement, in his sixth year, to continue dating Ginny. They snuck around. They kissed. He sat in the Gryffindor stands during the Quidditch games. On occasion, he caught Blaise's eye. He forced himself to ignore the hurt shown in the Slytherin's stance.

When Ginny broke up with him, apologies falling from her lips, begging for them to remain friends, he smiled and gave her a hug.

Both of them were relieved.

…

Blaise saw him alone in the stands during the last match of the season.

Unspoken words crossed the stands, desperate pleas communicated through carefully glances.

Five minutes into the game, they met under the Ravenclaw stands.

Ten minutes into the game, the scores were forgotten.

In their time apart, they had grown this desperate need for each other. Now that they were together… Dean almost cried into Blaise's lips.

…

"I miss you," Dean breathed, hugging his knees to his chest. He wanted Blaise.

He was supposed to be at Hogwarts, partaking in his last year. He was supposed to be happy.

It was cold. He was alone.

…

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Dean snuck out to the Quidditch Pitch, hiding underneath the Ravenclaw stands. He tucked himself in a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, his back against the wood of the stands.

He barely even noticed Blaise's presence. Not until he was gently pulling Dean into his lap. Strong arms, no longer the scrawny and scrappy ones he remembered, encircled Dean, and he finally relaxed.

"Thank Merlin you're okay," Blaise whispered, holding him closer. "I fought for you. I thought I was fighting for the memory of you." Dean felt tears fall onto his skin. He wasn't sure if they were from Blaise or himself. "But you're alive. Thank Merlin."


	21. The Last Game

**Written solely for Wifey's "The Dating Grounds" with Regulus Black at the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. Sorry I'm lame and late.**

 **Warnings: hints of bad home life, talk of failure, this story just happened and it reads like it just happened, so I guessed I should warn you about that too.**

 **Word Count: 615**

* * *

 **The Last Game**

Regulus was exhausted. Horribly exhausted. But he didn't quit. He couldn't quit. How could he? How could he disappoint his family? How could he let all of his values fall through and puddle on the ground like a worthless pile of sludge?

He couldn't give up. There was no question about it.

He had to make it work.

He had to.

He just… had to.

His hands ached. His body, lithe and quick, burned. Sweat dripped from his brow, little droplets curving against the pale flesh of his face. His robe was soaked; it was demeaning. But dirty laundry was the least of his worries.

A punishment far worse than death awaited him if he failed. He wasn't sure if he could withstand it at all. So he didn't give up.

He didn't want them to give him the silent treatment. That would flat out suck.

"You can do it, Reggie!" a voice shouted from the Gryffindor stands, and Regulus's eyes snapped up to lock on Sirius's. A wide grin split the lips of his brother, and he pumped his fists in encouragement.

Regulus simply nodded; he had never been one to show much emotion.

Behind Sirius, wearing a Slytherin scarf—Regulus's Slytherin scarf—was James Potter. Even from a distance, Regulus could see his eyes sparkling. It filled him with an energy unknown to Merlin himself, and Regulus gripped his broom tighter.

He _would_ win, even if it killed him.

The game had already been going on for five hours. It was the last game of the season, the deciding game. If Slytherin beat Hufflepuff, Slytherin would win, leaving Gryffindor to take second place, and Hufflepuff to take third. Ravenclaw, no matter the outcome of this game, would take last.

If Hufflepuff won…

Regulus shook his head. He had to win. Gryffindor and Slytherin had to place top two. If they didn't, then why even bother with Quidditch at all?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. Gold. Quick. Just a flash.

Regulus responded with lightning speed and bullseye accuracy. Within seconds, the Snitch was in his left hand, shuddering and trying to escape, but Regulus held tight.

Roars erupted from every angle—anger from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws (they had formed an alliance, much like Gryffindor and Slytherin), and excitement from the Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Regulus pumped his fist in the air, his features strangely calm. He was cheering on the inside.

He only smiled when he met James's eyes; it was only then that a grin, as wide as his brother's, spread across his lips.

…

"I'm so proud of you," James whispered later that night. The two of them had snuck back onto the Quidditch Pitch, their eyes turned towards the stars. This was a common activity for the pair of them—fitting, since they both practically lived on the Quidditch Pitch.

Regulus smiled softly, turning to tuck into James's side. "I owe it all to you. You and Sirius, and your parents, and Remus, and Peter—"

James laughed, tugging Regulus into a tight hug and practically pulling him on top of his chest. "Our parents, remember? They became yours that night you and Sirius showed up on our doorstep."

Warmth flooded through Regulus's chest. It had been almost two years since he and Sirius had begun to live with the Potter's, and it still felt like a dream. How had he been lucky enough to get out of his old situation and get into his current one?

"I love you, Reg," James whispered after a moment, making the warmth in Regulus's chest spread across his entire body.

He took a deep breath before glancing up at James. "I love you too."


	22. A Life Unwanted

**This was written for Hogwarts, term 11, assignment #2 - Agricultural Science** **Task One: Write about someone feeling unwanted.**

 **It was also written for wifey's Dating Grounds.**

 **It was written... quickly, to put it lightly. I'm not sure how happy I am with it, but ya girl don't have time to write anything else rn. Work sucks. I'm so tired.**

 **.**

 **Summary: Regulus wants to be accepted by the Gryffindors. Two Gryffindors, to be precise, but he knows that it could never happen. Sometimes just sitting in the Gryffindor common room is enough but... maybe it's just too hard to hang around when he knows he's unwanted.**

 **Warnings: Implied depression, implied torture, implied bad home life, shown hatred for a group of people (Slytherins). I think that covers it.**

 **Word count: 942**

* * *

 **A Life Unwanted**

Regulus didn't exactly know what he was doing sitting on soft cushions surrounded by gold and maroon. It felt wrong. Courage and bravery filled each wall of the room. It was warm. Safe. Welcoming. And he was an intruder. A blemish. A dark stain. He scratched absently at his left forearm.

It was late—or incredibly early Regulus supposed—so no one was in the room with him. He just sat on the armchair closest to the portrait door, the fire flickering and casting shadows throughout the room.

The Slytherin common room wasn't cold, per say, but it didn't hold a candle to the warmth of the Gryffindor common room. Comfort was seeping into Regulus's skin, melting his blood and slowing his heart.

He had snuck at roughly one in the morning, just after the last of the Gryffindors decided to call it a night, and had been sitting curled up in the armchair ever since. It was a ritual for him, one that he was surprised no one caught on to. He sat. Alone. Every night. Never sleeping.

And he usually left just before dawn.

Some nights he would start dozing off, but then the fear of being discovered would jump him back into alertness. He couldn't get caught. If he got caught, he would have to explain himself. He couldn't do that. He couldn't describe what it was like to be surrounded by the blood purists who spoke of unspeakable things and all the others who just let the words be said. He couldn't explain the mark on his arm and how he was tortured into taking it. He couldn't explain the guilt, fear, or contempt.

He couldn't admit, at least not out loud, that he didn't want to be a part of the group of Slytherins that accepted him; he wanted the Gryffindors, two boys in particular, to take him as one of their own.

But he wasn't one of their own. He was an intruder. A blemish. Something unwanted and disliked. Something feared and hated.

Regulus was dozing, lulled into a comfortable rest by the ambiance of flames and warm colors, when the sound of the portrait door opening and closing . His eyes flew open and his head snapped up. Wordlessly, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself.

He briefly wondered what someone was doing up at this hour.

Seconds after the sound of the door, Regulus saw the forms of four boys. He knew, just by the way that they stood, that they were Regulus's brother and his friends. A pain shot through his chest. He ignored it.

"I still can't believe she said yes," Sirius was saying. His whisper was rough, like he was itching to yell but knew better than to do so.

James let out a chuckle that sent a tingle through Regulus' stomach. "I've got game, Pads."

"As if. She feels sorry for you," Remus cut in, speaking in his normal, dry tone of voice. He was still quieter than both James and Sirius. They were talking about Lily; Regulus would be lying if he claimed that he wasn't jealous.

Peter chose that moment to pipe up. "Bedtime. Or else someone's going to catch us out of bed and think we're up to something."

"But we are up to something." Sirius

"That's my point." Peter

"Wormtail's right." This was James now. Regulus sunk further into his cushions, praying to Godric that he wouldn't get caught. "If someone sees we're up late at night, and with what's going to happen to the Slytherins tomorrow… We will be prime suspects."

Regulus bit his lip. He wished he was in bed.

In the dim light, Regulus could see Sirius roll his eyes. "So? The snakes deserve any prank that's directed at them, and I couldn't care less if we get the credit. Hogwarts needs to see that for all their talk, the snakes can't fend off simple little harmless attacks. They are all stupid, selfish, horrible—"

"Love." Remus had stepped closer and cupped Sirius's cheeks with his hands. "Don't. You know better than to judge people by the people of their house."

"Don't you dare compare the corrupt traits of Slytherins to my family," Sirius snapped, pushing Remus away. Regulus could feel his anger even though he was almost across the room. "If they are in that house, it's because they chose to be there. They have the same, horrible ideals as those people I grew up with."

Remus was persistent. "The traits of Slytherin are ambition, cunning, determination, and self preservation. It has absolutely nothing to do with blood purity or ideals or whatever it is that you have in your head."

James chose that moment to speak up. "Pads, I agree with Remus. Not every Slytherin is… well… like your family."

Hope began rising in Regulus's chest. Maybe, just maybe he could find acceptance. Maybe he could be forgiven. Maybe he could be saved.

But then Sirius spoke, and all hope was crushed. "No, James. Every Slytherin is a piece of trash and they all deserve to rot in Azkaban."

Sirius stormed out of the common room, leaving his group of friends in a somewhat sad silence. Regulus knew that they were speaking, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't feel anything. He hurt more than he ever had while the Cruciatus was trained on him.

Light was starting to seep through the windows by the time Regulus realized that he wasn't alone. Numbly, he stood up and made his way back to the Slytherin common room—where he belonged. He knew better than to stay where he was unwanted.


	23. We Each Have a Part to Play

**Whelp, look who is back to writing? My first drabble in a while. I'm shocked that I managed it.**

 **I wrote it for Amber's Weekly Drabble Competition: Week One (Easy) - Write a canon pairing**

 **Warnings: Arranged marriage? I think that's it. It's... light... weird...**

 **Word Count (excluding a/n): 859**

 **(** **And yes, I'm aware it's a little over 750 words, but I'm still counting this as a drabble because Amber is counting it as a drabble)**

* * *

 **We Each Have a Part to Play**

"Narcissa, darling. The Malfoys are here." Druella's voice was kind, but it held the same hint of sadness that had been present for the last two weeks.

Oh how long those two weeks had been. Narcissa sighed and turned her head away from her mother, unable to bear the heaviness in her eyes. It was all she could do to stand up and follow her mother down to the sitting room, refusing to look anywhere other than at the ornate rugs on which they walked.

She knew how she had to behave. One sister had already messed this family union up—their reputation couldn't withstand another disobedient child. So, upon reaching the sitting room, she raised her eyes to meet those of Lucius Malfoy.

He smiled, and it almost struck her as odd. He hadn't been a very kind boy back at Hogwarts, but something about his smile… it actually seemed sincere.

She repaid the gesture.

When he took her hand and kissed her knuckles, she didn't pull away. And when he asked her to go on a walk, she complied, falling into a silence as he spoke to her of things she couldn't really care about. She knew her role, and if he was always this well-mannered, then maybe it wouldn't be too difficult to play.

They were halfway through the rose gardens when Lucius stopped walking and turned to her, giving her an inquisitive look. "You're lost in your own mind, I see," he said, his expression softening into a smile. "May I have the privilege of knowing your thoughts?"

Of course, Narcissa didn't want him to see her true thoughts. Not with how shaky their family ties were at the moment. "Your voice is very soothing," she lied in an airy tone. "I apologize if I got a little lost in it."

Lucius blushed, but quickly blinked his reaction away. "I know there is more to it, Ms. Black," he said. "You can trust me. This has to be a… trying time for you and your family. I just want to help."

Narcissa was startled by his words, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she glanced back at the house, where she knew their parents were drawing up the papers on their betrothal. Instead of focusing on the window of the sitting room, Narcissa turned her attention to the rose bush directly in front of her. Only one of the roses was in full bloom, its white petals stretching out to show all of its beauty.

"You are an only child, yes?" She asked softly, finally turning to look at Lucius. She knew the answer, of course. She knew a lot about his bloodline. "Things are different when you share a childhood with someone else. My sisters and I… we were inseparable before Hogwarts—through school, even. Up until Bella graduated and became a Lestrange."

Narcissa sighed before meandering over to a marble bench, sitting down delicately upon it. "When Bella left, she became a different person. She had always had a lust for life, but what she is now is… And then Andromeda left, taking our reputation with her." Narcissa shook her head, stopping herself from saying any more. What had their family come to? One sister deranged, one disobedient.

And Narcissa.

Lucius was quiet as he sat down beside Narcissa, hesitantly reaching for her hand. She let him take it. "You feel betrayed," he said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. And even if Narcissa hated to admit it, it was true.

"You have every right to feel betrayed," he continued, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. "She left. Left your family, left our world, left you, all for a muggle? It's not something you can forgive overnight."

Narcissa blinked, turning her full attention to Lucius. He looked hurt. He looked betrayed. "You actually love her," she whispered in surprise. He smiled sadly.

"I do, but she left me too. I wasn't enough for her."

He sounded so dejected, so lost, that Narcissa couldn't help but gently squeeze his fingers. She was about to reply, to tell him that it was Andromeda's loss—Andromeda's mistake for turning down someone so kind—but she was cut off before she could speak.

"That's why I'm going to make this vow to you, Narcissa. I will work every day to become a man that is enough for you. I already have failed one betrothed. I won't fail another," he said, his voice cracking slightly during his proclamation.

Narcissa could tell, though, that he meant what he was saying. In that moment, she realized that he was just as duty-bound as she was. They both had a part to play; Lucius was determined to play his role as best he could.

Maybe she could try a little harder. Maybe she could learn to truly trust him—he had shown her no reason not to.

Slowly, she leaned up close to him and pressed their lips together, her body relaxing as his arms wound around her. For the first time in two weeks, since her sister had abandoned her to go live with a muggle, she didn't feel quite so alone.


End file.
